I Would Never Hurt You
by Sammy07
Summary: Post-Saw. Adam and Lawrence are in a relationship, but Adam is beginning to feel that Lawrence only wants him for sex, and does not genuinely love him. Adam/Lawrence. SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

As I say on my profile, I LOVE Saw SLASH with Adam and Lawrence. This is my first fic, so be gentle, or I'll send evil spirits after you... or something. Also, for the sake of finality, I guess I'll put on a disclaimer: I don't own Saw, because if I did, Saw II, Saw III, and any other sequels that they felt like making would all be about Adam and Lawrence doing things to one another. That said, enjoy my smut. It would be nice if you reviewed, too.

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He has to talk to him today. He _has_ to. But he knows he won't be able to. He never can. The moment he sees him, his knees tremble and his voice leave him. The moment his strong, reassuring arms are around him and his warm, eager lips are pressed fervently against his own, Adam's body just seems to dissolve in an instant.

"_**You have to die."**_

_**Lawrence, his face pale from pain and blood-loss, clutches the gun in his hand as though it is all he has left in the world.**_

"Hey, Adam."

Lawrence stands in the doorway of the photographer's apartment, several grocery bags in his arms and a friendly smile on his face. And, just like every other time when the surgeon arrives like this, Adam's voice deserts him completely, and all he can do is grin back, trying to hide the anxiety in his expression.

"_**No! I wanna live! I wanna live!"**_

_**Desperately, Adam moves from left to right, trying to throw off the other man's aim. But Lawrence keeps it. He does not falter.**_

As always, the words he wants to say leave his throat the moment Lawrence's strong arms pull him into a tight embrace. Adam doesn't resist as the older man pushes him backwards, into his own room and onto his own bed. He doesn't try to push him off. He doesn't pull away when Lawrence's soft, gentle lips connect with his own, and eventually coax the younger man to open his mouth and allow the other man's tongue to enter.

"_**It's for my family..."**_

_**Lawrence's tone is low, and there are tears in his eyes. But are they because of his family's obvious peril, or Adam's?**_

As always, Adam's heart begins to pound faster and faster as Lawrence's hands push in under his shirt and feel the tender and trembling skin there. As always, his penis begins to stiffen when the surgeon's warm, enticing hand strokes it.

"_**I'm sorry..."**_

_**Lawrence's voice is sincere, but there is desperation and murder in his eyes.**_

As always, Adam does nothing to stop Lawrence, as his kisses get harder and his strokes get faster, because it just feels too good. As the younger man begins to reach his climax, his mind, temporarily, leaves him.

_**Bang.**_

As always, within just a few short minutes, Adam is coming hopelessly into the older man's hand, and his breathing is fast and strained. Then, his mind is slowly beginning to return to him, and he is able to think again, which isn't always a good thing.

_**Hot, white, blinding pain. This must be death, surely. Nothing in life could feel so unearthly and agonizing.**_

Adam feels used. He feels that Lawrence only comes to see him now because of the unrequited sexual gestures at home, where he still lives. He won't leave his family, and Adam daren't ask him to.

_**He's lying on the ground, facedown. He's terrified, and he's hurting. Amazingly, he's not just scared for himself; he's also scared for Lawrence, despite what he just did to him.**_

He loves Lawrence. More than anything, he loves him. He's all Adam has. And the fact that the surgeon obviously doesn't feel the same way about him, that he has a wife and daughter, whom, despite everything, he loves and wants to stay with, is enough to make the photographer cry himself to sleep almost every night he's alone. The fact that Lawrence shot him, with the intent to kill, for the sake of his family, emotionally destroys the younger man. It hurts him even more to think that the older man would likely do it again, and again, and again, if he had to.

"_**I have to go get help... If I don't get help... I'm going to bleed to death."**_

_**Lawrence's voice is trembling so much, Adam can hardly make out the words. But he does. More tears come into his eyes and he clings to the other man like he never has to anyone before.**_

"_**No! Don't leave me! No!"**_

_**His voice is terrified, and he makes no effort to hide it. He can't be left here alone, he can't. Lawrence averts his eyes, which are filled with pain and tears, from Adam's and begins to crawl away from him, and the freelance photographer finds himself sobbing even harder. Desperately, he tries to reach out and grab him again, but by now he's beyond his reach. After crawling a few more meters, Lawrence turns to face him again.**_

"_**Don't worry. I'll bring someone back. I promise."**_

_**Adam can't speak. He's on his stomach, still reaching out as far as he can for the other man. As Lawrence begins moving again, though, Adam manages to find his voice, only for a moment, to call after him.**_

"_**Lawrence! Lawrence..."**_

_**The surgeon turns. His face is a deathly white, but he's still the most comforting thing Adam has had for as long as he can remember. And, he wants to tell him this. He wants to tell him how much he means to him, how much he has grown to care for him in the few hours that they've been together. He wants to tell him that he loves him. But he can't. The words leave him as he opens his mouth to say them, and all that manages to come out is:**_

"_**We gonna be okay?"**_

_**His voice sounds pleading and desperate, not like him at all. His shoulders are shaking with anguished sobs, and a horrible feeling of loneliness and despair is beginning to build up inside him. In his blurred vision, he sees Lawrence's beautiful face, determined, sincere, as he replies, in barely a whisper:**_

"_**I wouldn't lie to you."**_

_**And then he is gone, leaving Adam alone. Alone and sobbing in that terrible place.**_

Adam and Lawrence had met, under the most unexpected and horrible of circumstances. Adam had been a freelance photographer; random people paid him to follow unfortunate individuals from whom they suspected foul play. Lawrence had been cheating on his wife with a student of his, although that was not exactly the kind of "foul" play that the guy who'd paid him to follow the older man had suspected.

The two had then been kidnapped, by an infamous "serial killer" known as Jigsaw. Although he was referred to as a murderer, Jigsaw did not _technically_ a kill any of his victims; the sufferers always had a chance to survive the situation, although it always involved either extremely dangerous or self-mutilating actions. In the case of Adam and Lawrence, the two had been chained to opposite sides of a dilapidated and abandoned bathroom, and each given a hacksaw, not strong enough to saw through the chains that bound them, but strong enough to saw through the foot that was shackled.

Lawrence had been given a specific task; to kill Adam. He had only had a certain amount of time to do this, and if he didn't, he had soon found, his wife and daughter would be killed, and the two of them would be left in the room to rot. Adam had had the choice of sawing through his foot to escape his apparent fate, but he hadn't been able to. In the end, it had been Lawrence who had disfigured himself in order to get to the gun in the middle of the room, clutched by an apparent corpse, that had previously been out of his reach, and shot his cellmate, with the intent to kill. But Adam hadn't died; Lawrence's aim had been slightly off, and he had ended up with just a small, albeit painful, wound on his right shoulder.

Soon after, Adam had killed the man that they had both believed to be responsible for putting them there, Zep, and Lawrence had left him to find help for them both. Shortly after the surgeon had left, however, the "corpse" in the middle of the room, the one that had been clutching the perpetrating gun, had gotten up from the floor and revealed himself to be the real Jigsaw. Adam had tried to shoot him, but had been stunned momentarily with electricity, and Jigsaw had escaped.

Adam had really thought then that he was doomed. He'd thought that he was going to die, horribly; slowly, alone, and forgotten.

But Lawrence had made good on his promise. Help had come, and Adam had been freed. Despite the fact that Jigsaw had escaped, leaving Adam to rot in a place not so far from being Hell, he hadn't done anything to stop Lawrence. Perhaps he'd thought that the surgeon would never make it, that he would never manage to get help for the other man. But he had. And he'd lived, too. He was so much stronger than the photographer could ever dream to be. He'd cared about his family; he'd wanted to see them again. And... he'd cared about Adam; he'd wanted to keep his promise to him.

Adam had then experienced the three sweetest moments in his life, barely one week apart from one another.

The first was when he'd been woken, barely alive, by a heavily-armed SWAT team member. He remembers that, once the initial shock was over, how relieved and grateful he was. The SWAT team had already made short work of the chain around his ankle, and they had then taken him outside, to the hallway, for which he was very thankful, to wait for an ambulance, as Adam had been unable to climb the ladder leading out of the base level in his condition. He remembers thinking, as he waited with a few of the more sympathetic members of the SWAT team: How could Lawrence have climbed this thing, in the condition he was in?

The second-sweetest memory was approximately one week later, when he and Lawrence had both been well enough to see one another. Adam remembers the blissful feeling of relief and love he'd felt when he'd seen the surgeon, propped up by many pillows, his severed ankle heavily bandaged, lying in a hospital bed and smiling at him. He remembers breaking down in the older man's arms as the fear and terror he'd struggled to compress for over a week welled up inside him again. He remembers the feeling of Lawrence's strong arms around him, and his gentle voice whispering to him that everything was okay.

The third-sweetest memory had taken place only one day after he'd been reunited with Lawrence. The two of them, Adam remembers, had been in Lawrence's hospital bed, although Adam had been outside the covers and Lawrence had been under them, talking quietly. Adam had had his head rested against the other man's chest, and Lawrence had had his right arm around him in a kind of embrace. Then the door had been pulled open without so-much as a warning knock and Jason Martin, a member of the SWAT team, one of the few who had taken the time to comfort Adam when they'd found him, had rushed in, grinning. Adam and Lawrence had quickly disentangled themselves from one another, their faces flushing, but Jason had appeared to be too happy to notice. The words that had left his mouth after that would stay with the two surviving victims for the rest of their lives:

"We've got Jigsaw. Well, his body, anyway. He tried to run, but we opened fire. He now has more holes than an arcade Whack-A-Mole game."

Adam can remember the feeling of pure relief and happiness he'd felt at these words, and just as well, he can remember Lawrence embracing him, and the two of them half-sobbing, half-laughing in a mixture of relief and suppressed fear. He remembers Jason's "boyfriend" joke at their hugging, remembers that they'd both been too happy and relieved to care.

Adam opened his eyes blearily, completely and utterly drained. Lawrence lay beside him, his naked body pressed hard against the younger man's, his breathing heavy and peaceful. Adam sighed and wrapped his arms slightly more tightly around his lover, trying without success to ease some of the growing displeasure and hurt that he was feeling. He loved Lawrence. He loved him more than anything in the world, including himself.

Just being with him for a few hours a day should have been enough, but the two really didn't see each other as often as they once had. Lawrence was far busier now than he had been when they'd first been rescued. He had a fulltime job and a wife and child to support, not to mention an extremely fancy house to pay off. Nowadays, Adam was lucky if he even saw the surgeon once a week.

When he was with Lawrence, most of the time, Adam actually felt at peace with the world, like everything might just be okay. But as soon as the older man left and he was on his own again, he felt nothing but despair, despair that was growing rapidly every day, getting bad enough to actually make Adam consider suicide on a regular basis.

"I love you so much..." the young man breathed, so quietly that there was no way that Lawrence would have heard him, even if he had been awake. But even when he _was_ awake and Adam said those words, or ones similar to them, the surgeon never replied with the same ones. He'd never said that he loved the photographer back. Never, in the whole time that he'd known him, which was going close to a year.

And it was that thought, among others, that kept Adam awake and crying most nights when he was alone, and he was alone at least six out of seven.

_The person I love more than anyone doesn't even give two shits about me._

Suicide really didn't seem like such a bad idea these days.

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Don't worry, everyone! Adam will NOT be committing suicide. He and Lawrence will be happy together eventually in this fic (and all my other Adam/Lawrence ones, come to that). I just like angst and hurt/comfort. I'll update this fic, and the many others that I have planned, as regularly as I can. Until then, it'd be really swell if ya'll could clickie on that little button just below this and tell me what you think...


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, how long has it been since I updated this? Grrr... I'm so sorry for taking so long! I know this is the most popular out of my fics. To tell the truth, I've actually been a bit nervous about whether or not my subsequent chapters would be as popular. I hope ya'll like this chapter, and I'm sorry for the delay! They won't be so long now, I promise. And keep up those wonderful reviews! They really encourage me a lot. :)

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Adam gave a soft, contented moan and snuggled closer to Lawrence, burying his head deeper into his warm chest. He felt his skin tremble with pleasure when the other man returned his gestures, wrapping his arms more tightly around his lover in an affectionate embrace.

Adam had no idea how long the two of them had been lying like that -- huddled as closely together as possible, their arms around one another and legs straddling the other's waist. When he was with Lawrence, time seemed to stand still. Sometimes, like now, it was because everything was so perfect -- he felt safe and loved, as though nothing could ever hurt him again -- and others, it was because the younger man was so unhappy that he couldn't comprehend time at all.

Either way, it was because of the beautiful blond-haired man lying beside him that Adam was able to feel such emotions. It was because of him that Adam had learned to love again, and it was because of him that he had managed to push those horrible experiences he'd had in Jigsaw's deadly "game" to the back of his mind.

"I love you, Larry," Adam breathed into the surgeon's chest. His voice trembled slightly, as though the very emotion with which the words were spoken was enough to move him to tears. Lawrence replied by hugging the younger man even more tightly, and moving his mouth to his neck. He was kissing him again, running his tongue fervently across Adam's neck and occasionally using his teeth. The photographer gave a low grunt of pleasure and began to move his hands across Lawrence's naked body.

_God,_ he couldn't help thinking. _Twice in one night. How long has it been since we were _that_ horny?_

Even though his body still ached slightly from the rough feeling of Lawrence's cock inside him from a just few hours ago, Adam found himself returning the older man's gestures as passionately as he was receiving them.

The surgeon seemed extra aggressive tonight. Well, not so much aggressive. More... desiring. He desired Adam, and he was doing everything he could to relieve this maddening lust. The younger man could not complain. He loved the attention too much for that. His body was weak and deprived of physical attention. And he himself... He was lonely. _Fuck_, he was lonely. Somehow, when Lawrence kissed him, when he touched and tasted him with as much lust as he was doing now, Adam felt loved, even though at the same time, he felt used.

Lawrence covered Adam's mouth with his own and roughly pushed his tongue into his mouth. Adam moaned into the kiss, feeling a bulging lump appear in between his legs once more. The older man gently ran his fingers along his shuddering companion's nipples, which hardened straight away from the contact. Adam felt Lawrence's own penis begin to throb and grow, as well, rubbing against his slightly, a feeling which made the young man grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

"O-Oh, God, Larry..." Adam whimpered once his lover had broken their kiss. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the older man began slowly moving one hand -- he had no idea which -- down the photographer's shivering body, still fondling his nipples with the other. Lawrence once again had his mouth to Adam's neck, and was sucking greedily at it, almost enough to hurt.

It _did_ hurt, actually. Whether he was meaning to or not, Lawrence was now digging his teeth viciously into the younger man's collarbone, so hard that Adam was certain that he was drawing blood, though presently he was far too high with desire to feel it. The surgeon's hands seemed to be all over the place now, too. One minute, they were against his chest, clawing and digging at it like Lawrence wanted nothing more than to rip it apart, the next, they were around his body, hugging it tightly against his, even as Lawrence pushed his own weight fiercely on top of the smaller man, again and again, so hard that it felt like his ribs would break.

Adam kissed Lawrence eagerly when he felt his lips tear themselves away from his neck and connect with his own once more. Lawrence stopped throwing himself against Adam, choosing instead to press his body as closely to his as he could in a fervent embrace, and forced his tongue deep, deep into the younger man's mouth, trying to violate as much of him as he could, feeling insanely satisfied when Adam tried to battle for dominance with his own tongue, and failed miserably.

Lawrence moved his hands up and around Adam's body, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, as though he couldn't quite make up his mind whether to be gentle or aggressive. Adam returned the gestures, though very slowly and gently, treating each part of Lawrence like it was a sacred and very fragile treasure.

They continued like this for about ten minutes, almost like wild animals in their irrational desire to be close to one another and feel the other's tongue and hands on their bodies. Finally, though, Lawrence seemed to get sick of this. Forcing his mouth away from where it had been settled on Adam's, the older man moved his roaming hands off of the trembling body beneath him, then sat up, his head spinning.

Adam stared hazily up at Lawrence, who seemed so high up from the position he was still in, feeling his cheeks flush a bright shade of red when he caught the other man's eyes traveling down to his rapidly-growing erection. Lawrence smiled slightly, moving his right hand back down to fondle his lover's chest, relishing the gasps and shudders that resulted from such a simple action. Then, without wasting time on pleasantries or explanations, he grabbed the photographer around the shoulders, pushing him over onto his stomach with impressive force.

Lawrence then leant forward slightly, now straddling Adam's waist with his legs, and breathed heavily, trying to steady himself. He could never remember having wanted the damn kid so much before in his life. Even after he'd come in and kissed him, felt him, rubbed him until he'd emptied himself shamelessly into his hand, then fucked him with as much force and enthusiasm as he always had, he still wanted him. Staying the night had obviously been a bad idea. He didn't do it very often anymore for exactly this reason. There was nothing he could do about it now, though.

Lawrence kissed Adam lightly on his shoulder -- the uninjured shoulder, predictably -- then lay down on top of him, still straddling him passionately with his legs, trying to wedge his pulsing cock in between the now-outstretched legs. The younger man was shivering slightly, cursing under his breath while fidgeting and straining weakly against Lawrence, like he wanted to stop what they were doing but was too weak to follow through.

Lawrence gave Adam's penis a gentle stroke, as if to reassure and calm him, then roughly thrust himself into him. Adam moaned in a mixture of pleasure and agony as he once again felt Lawrence's cock filling him. After a few moments, the surgeon pulled out again, grunting in satisfaction. Adam braced himself for the next thrust, but it still hurt. Lawrence had never been so passionate and aggressive before. The way he was making love to Adam now, it was as though he were both trying to embrace him and tear him apart at the same time.

The older man managed to keep up a comfortable pace with the hand-job, as well, which helped them both along. Adam enjoyed the sensation of Lawrence being inside him; it made him feel like they were one and that nothing could ever separate them. But at the same time, it was also extremely painful, and Lawrence's gentle hand on his own throbbing erection made it durable.

Lawrence was exclaiming and swearing in a very non-professional and out-of-character way as he continued plowing his gratified cock into Adam's backside, becoming rougher and rougher with each thrust. His nails dug slightly into Adam's penis as he continued stroking it, but the pain was not excruciating. Not like the feeling of Lawrence's massive length practically tearing his insides apart, though that sensation was more a mixture of Heaven _and_ Hell than anything else.

Adam dug his nails into the sheets of the bed, burying his face into them, too. Lawrence was panting now, making no effort to conceal his arousal or frustration at how long this process was taking. Adam's mind began to go momentarily blank as his penis, much younger and more eager than his senior's, burst, and small droplets of seaman leaked through Lawrence's gripping fingers. Lawrence paid that no head, though. He continued stroking Adam, almost robotically, forcing the last few stubborn drops of his arousal out and then feeling the younger man's cock go limp in his hand.

Adam, in a blind daze of exhaustion and pleasure, felt Lawrence's hand leave his drained member and join its fellow in supporting the body of its owner, who was still pushing himself into his companion with everything he had. Roughly two minutes later, Lawrence too had caved, emptying himself blissfully into the photographer's opening with a low, choked-out moan that seemed to rock the foundations of the entire apartment.

Adam barely felt the surgeon rolling wearily off him, once again settling his body beside his, and resettling an arm around his lover's waist. Adam didn't want to think about how troublesome it was going to be to wash all of these... _stains_ out of his bed the next morning. And he'd have to do that alone, too. He had to do everything alone now. Lawrence never stayed with him long enough to do anything more than fuck him dry, drop off some groceries, and, if he was lucky, spend the night with him.

_Lawrence..._ Adam thought blearily as he stared at his now-dozing companion through half-closed lids. _You have no idea how much you hurt me, do you? Or, if you do, you don't give a shit. And still I can't stop myself from feeling the way I do about you. I guess that goes to show just how fucking much I'm worth, huh?_

And, as so often happened when Lawrence decided to spend the night with him, Adam fell into a deep and uneasy sleep, thinking anything but peaceful and content thoughts like one _should_ when lying together with the person one loved most.

- - - - - - - - - -

"I have to go now, Adam."

There it is again. That calm, indifferent attitude. The brisk tone, the cold eyes, and the firm set of the jaw. It's moments like this that make the younger man think that he is unloved.

_No! Lawrence, don't go! I need you! When you're not beside me, all I can think about is..._

Adam forces a smile and lifts his head from the pillow slightly. He doesn't feel like getting up. He doesn't think the other man is worth it.

"Okay," he says, trying and succeeding to keep the emotion out of his voice also.

_How bad could death be? After all, what had happened in the bathroom had scared Adam because it had brought on the _threat_ of death. The threat of being forgotten. But if he were to just, say, slash his wrists with a razorblade or put a gun in his mouth... it wouldn't hurt too much, would it?_

"I'll come and visit you again soon," Lawrence promises, a touch of affection in his voice as he gently pulls the sheets up around his lover's body and gets up.

_No one would really care if he died. Well, Lawrence might care a little, but he'd get over it. He'd probably get a large number of sympathy-fucks out of his wife if Adam were to kill himself. She'd be sorry that her husband's "best friend" had committed suicide. Or, he'd just find someone else to fuck when he was bored. Either way, he wouldn't miss him._

"Lawrence?"

The words are out before Adam can stop them. They sound despairing, pleading, pathetic. The surgeon turns around, having had his back toward the younger man as he made to leave, and looks down at the photographer in concern.

"Adam?" he replies quietly.

_You can't leave me here, Lawrence. I can't stand this anymore. I love you so much, and yet you don't even care about me._

"See you," Adam breathes quietly into the pillow, turning in his bed so that his back is to Lawrence.

"See you, Adam," the older man says, leaning down briefly to give his lover a kiss on the back of his neck.

The sound of the door shutting as Lawrence leaves is enough to make the young man grip the sheets of his mattress, hard. It's a desperate attempt to stop the tears that always flow whenever his only friend leaves him. But they still come. They always do. He can't stop them.

He wants to cry into Lawrence's arms again, the way he did in that hospital bed, when they were finally reunited and Adam had released all of his fear and anger into his friend's chest. But he never does. He doesn't want to bother Lawrence with such things. If he did, the surgeon would probably grow sick of him and leave him, finding someone else to release his unrequited sexual desire on.

And so, Adam contents himself with crying by himself, almost always he cries when he's alone, for the sake of being able to stay close to the man he loves, even if that man does not love him back.

In the midst of his tears and anguish, Adam actually manages to smile slightly. Things had been so wonderful between him and Lawrence, once. Shortly after they'd both been discharged from the hospital, Lawrence had started to come over to his house at least three times a week, claiming that he had to get out of the house and give Allison and Diana some time to recover. He'd never said so, but Adam knows that Lawrence also came over so frequently because he worried about him, too. Almost like he was a member of his family, too. It had made Adam feel so happy and fulfilled.

But those days are long-over now. Things can never be like that again. Not when the two of them crossed the line of friendship and family, and strode into the realm of sex and hiding, lying and sneaking. After all, it had been Lawrence's sneaking and cheating on Allison that had landed him in Jigsaw's trap in the first place. Adam knows that doing the same thing with him all but tears the older man apart. Even if he doesn't love Allison anymore, he stays with her for Diana's sake.

Adam never dares to ask him to get a divorce, file for joint custody, and come to live with him. Why would he? Lawrence has everything anyone could ever want: A beautiful home, a loving family, a responsible job. He's living the American dream. Why would he abandon something like that for some kid he'd met during the worst moments of his life?

_But that's why I thought we had a connection... I thought, after going through something so horrible and hellish together, we could... We could actually be..._

Adam hugs his chest with his hands, ignoring the strain that puts on his wounded shoulder, and sobs harder into his stained sheets.

_Lawrence... Oh, Lawrence..._

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You know what's really great? This chapter was originally going to be much longer, but I figured I should keep them short and sweet. So, ya'll can expect an update in a few short days (after I get some more wonderful reviews? LOL, blackmail XD) just as long as this one. I hope the constant shift from present-to-past-tense narration style doesn't throw anyone off. I don't know why I do that. Anyway... R&R!


	3. Chapter 3

Goddamn it, I am SO sorry I took this long to update! I said I'd have the next chapter up within a week, and look how long it took me! ARGH! Anyway, if you can forgive me and R&R this chapter, you'll find that it's a flashbacky one, flashing back to when Adam and Lawrence first did the "deed!" There won't be a whole lot of flashbacks in this fic, since I want it to feel present and such, but there is one other flashback I'm planning, which will be a particularly emotional one with Adam waiting for Lawrence to rescue him in the bathroom. That'll probably be in the next chapter. Well, I'll shut up now and let you read (and review XD).

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"You cold?" Adam asked suddenly, tearing his eyes away from his minute TV-screen, where Jack Sparrow and Will Turner were hijacking a boat. Lawrence, sitting on the small armchair that was opposite to Adam's small-medium couch, looked around abruptly, his expression surprised.

"What makes you think I'm cold?" he asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

It had been two months since they'd both been discharged from the hospital, and Lawrence had gotten into the habit of coming over to Adam's apartment as often as he could, three times a week, sometimes more. Adam didn't like to admit that he enjoyed the older man's company, or that he was happy that he didn't have to be alone so much after the Hell he'd been through, especially considering that, unlike Lawrence, he had been kidnapped and snatched out of his own "safe" home. Maybe he should have considered moving out, but he didn't have the money.

Lawrence would probably lend or give him money if he asked, but Adam was far too proud for that. In the hospital, and for the first week after he'd been discharged, Adam had needed Lawrence with him practically all the time. The shock of what he'd been through in that nightmarish bathroom had been so great, he'd barely been able to take care of himself. And he'd cried. He'd cried so much and he hated himself for it. Because Lawrence had always been there to see him cry, and he'd always held him in his arms when he had, comforted him, made him feel like things would eventually be okay.

But Adam didn't do that anymore. He still cried sometimes, and every bathroom he went in sent shivers down his spine, but he didn't want to burden Lawrence with such things anymore. He had his own life to lead, after all, not to mention a terrified family going through a nightmare of its own to support. But Adam was grateful for the visits Lawrence made, and he knew that he made them because he was worried about him. Maybe he was just too smart to think that his friend had completely gotten over what had happened to him. Damn clever doctors...

Adam shrugged and wrapped his blanket more tightly around himself. He would have liked to have sat next to his friend while watching the movie, but guys -- _friends_, at least -- rarely did that.

"You can come over here," he said, his voice shaking somewhat. "If you're cold, I mean. This blanket's pretty warm, and there's more than enough room for both of us on this couch."

For a brief moment, Adam thought the older man was going to refuse. His face seemed to go slightly red, as anyone's would at the prospect of sitting on the same piece of furniture with someone they had only known for a couple of months. All too soon, though, Lawrence seemed to give in to his cold, and he got hesitantly to his feet, grimacing slightly as weight was put on his bad foot, and limped over to Adam, plunking himself down beside him.

Adam carelessly spread half of the blanket over his friend, moving slightly closer to him in order to prevent himself from losing any of the warmness himself. Lawrence moved a little closer, too, and the two soon found themselves quite a lot closer together than they would have preferred.

About half an hour more into the movie, when Jack, Will, and their crew were being captured by Barbossa, Adam suddenly felt a light touch on his shoulder -- his _right_ shoulder. The one that had the painful, still-healing scar from where Lawrence had...

Adam let his eyes wander away from and screen to slowly focus on the other man, whom he had, if he was honest, been thinking about a hell of a lot more than the movie itself. The surgeon was leaning his left hand against his companion's wounded shoulder, frowning slightly. Before Adam could ask him what in the fuck he was doing, Lawrence had lifted up the part of shirt around the scarred skin, and put his mouth to it.

Adam gasped in a mixture of shock and pain as the warm breath of the older man brushed against his wound. But he didn't pull away. Taking this as a good sign, Lawrence slowly ran his tongue across the enflamed skin, causing the receiver to give a low grunt of pleasure. Encouraged even more by this, the surgeon lifted both his arms, taking his left away from where his mouth was still working, and wrapped them around Adam's neck.

The younger man, confused and surprised, but also, at the same time, aroused and full of wonder, slowly lifted his good hand to half-embrace his friend back. Lawrence, aroused even more by the new contact, moaned contentedly, the sound almost completely muffled by the skin he still had filling his mouth. Fervently, he lifted his hands up to grip at and finally pull away his lover's shirt, then at last allowed his fingers to run across Adam's bare skin.

Adam shuddered as the older man's hands ran across his exposed chest, stopping and lingering on his most sensitive of spots. Lawrence was now lying completely on top of him, the blanket still half-covering them both, and the movie, which they'd both, of course, tuned out to, was still playing. Adam was returning some of his friend's gestures, but for the most part, he was just accepting them. The warm feeling of Lawrence's tongue was heaven on his aching shoulder, and the hands roaming his trembling skin were just as good.

Eventually, to Adam's brief disappointment, Lawrence separated his mouth from his shoulder and pulled back slightly, though his hands still massaged the trembling body beneath him. After a few seconds of hesitation, Lawrence finally moved his head down, so that he was directly face-to-face with the photographer.

"Adam?" he asked, in a voice that sounded like it was hoarse from screaming.

Adam, his own voice nothing but a tiny whisper by now, only grunted in response. The fingers still caressing his skin almost completely immobilized him. Lawrence hesitated again, his brows furrowed, then muttered:

"Can I kiss you?"

At this, Adam had to chuckle somewhat, even though it didn't really come out as anything more than a croak. Lawrence hadn't had a problem with sucking at and touching him, positioning himself on top of him, removing his shirt... But he still felt the need to ask him for a kiss? Was this what they were taught in doctor school?

Lawrence seemed to take Adam's would-be laugh as a "yes," and he accordingly moved his mouth, slowly and uncertainly, to his companion's. After lingering inches in front of each other for a few seconds, both men finally snapped, not just kissing furiously, but also touching, stroking, and hugging at more desperate speeds, too.

It sure as hell wasn't like one of those romantic peck-like kisses in Disney movies that always seemed so soft and gentle... No, Adam and Lawrence's first kiss was anything _but_ those things. Lawrence shoved his tongue deep into Adam's mouth, biting his bottom lip slightly as he did so, and Adam responded by wrapping his left arm even more tightly around his lover.

Lawrence was still running his hands fervently down the younger man's shivering body, amazed at the effects his actions were having on him. How long had it been since he and Allison had gone at it like this? One year? Two? Ten?

Finally, just as the bulging lumps that had appeared between both men's legs -- probably, subconsciously, long before they had even squeezed together on the one cramped couch -- were becoming almost painful, Lawrence grabbed Adam briefly around the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Both were panting, hard, their arms, or, in Adam's case, _arm_, still wrapped around one another. Lawrence gave the photographer a brief kiss on the side of his neck, almost collapsing as his knees grew weak from the pleasure and lust.

His mouth still on Adam's neck, sucking, biting, Lawrence began eagerly pushing his lover backwards, into his tiny bedroom and onto his rough and unmade bed. Both felt with relief their legs buckle as they hit the bed, and they were once again able to lie back and relax.

Stopping to remove his irritating and expensive shirt first, Lawrence once again positioned himself on top of Adam, and resumed his nibbling and nuzzling along his lover's collarbone, the moans and shudderings these effects had on the younger man more than enough reaction for him. He moved his left hand up to Adam's shoulder, and began massaging it in the way he'd been taught when he'd been studying to become a doctor.

Adam moaned in pleasure as the soft hand brushed expertly against his bruised and aching muscles, closing his eyes and wrapping his working arm carelessly around his companion's back, feeling with satisfaction the many goosebumps that were arising from his touch.

Lawrence, his face still buried in Adam's neck, began to move his other hand gradually down his friend's body, moving slowly but surely towards the photographer's shorts.

"Lawrence..." Adam muttered, knowing full-well what the older man was intending to do but not having the energy nor the will to stop him.

It felt so good to be this close to Lawrence, to have his bare skin pressed against his, to have his firm and enticing hand stroking his damaged shoulder, to have his soft lips and tongue gently caressing his neck, and, most of all, to know that, within a few short seconds, Lawrence would have his hand on Adam's throbbing erection, and his strokes and rubs would cause him the ultimate form of pleasure.

He was kissing him again now, Adam realized in his half-sedated condition of arousal. The surgeon had torn his mouth roughly away from his lover's neck and moved instead to the trembling and quivering lips on the younger man's face.

Adam whimpered and closed his eyes, almost afraid of what was happening. What if his and Lawrence's friendship was ruined by this? What if Lawrence, disgusted by what they had done, left and they never spoke again? But... Oh, God... He never wanted this to end.

It all felt so good. Not exactly _right_, but behind the blinding lust that was clouding his mind, Adam felt love in the other man's gestures, as well. Most of what he was doing was just as much for Adam's benefit as it was for his, especially since the younger man had given up on trying to return more than a few of the touches and mouth-connectings that he was receiving.

The kiss lasted for well over a minute. The heavy breathing that it caused both men to emit only aroused them even more, and caused the kiss to grow. Finally, though, after he'd practically torn Adam's mouth apart with his teeth and tongue, Lawrence pulled back, breathing hard and copiously. Adam gasped as fresh air was once again delivered into his lungs, and for a moment, it looked like the night's antics might be over.

But when he felt Lawrence's right hand beginning to speed up in its gradual downward-climb, it became obvious that the antics were only just getting started. Adam tried to will himself to pull away, to push his friend off of him, to say that they were going too far... But he couldn't. Lawrence had him, just as surely as if he'd been bound by a million invisible ropes. He couldn't move. He didn't _want_ to move.

Though he'd tried to brace himself for it, the feeling of that warm, rough hand on his pulsing and expanding cock all but knocked the wind out of him. He drew in his breath abruptly, trying not to moan, because somehow he thought that would be too much. Though he managed to suppress it, Adam was unable to stop his body -- his weak, fucking traitorous body -- from arching up, into the older man's touch.

Lawrence's left hand fell limp by his lover's shoulder, but by now Adam was so aroused that the pain there no longer bothered him. All he cared about was that his throbbing length, which felt like it had never been satisfied before, was being rapidly and heavenly coaxed to release by the hand that held it.

Adam barely noticed the eager mouth that covered his once more, the mouth that claimed his lips and tongue for itself, nor did he notice the feeling of numb and trembling fingers on his nipples, which were almost as hard as his suffering cock at this point. He barely heard Lawrence murmuring his name, lovingly, indistinctly in the heat of his arousal, barely heard himself answer in an equally pathetic attempt of a voice, when his mouth could do nothing but automatically return the kisses and sucks from the one covering it, even though its owner could think about nothing, _nothing_ except...

_God... Faster... Please, God, faster..._

Lawrence was speeding up in pace now, his hand moving expertly along the base of Adam's head as though he had given hand-jobs all his life. And now Adam was making no attempt to suppress his moans of blissful pleasure anymore, muffled by the other man's kisses as they were. His mind was beginning to go blank, though it had already been quite blank when they'd first started this, and his body was starting to convulse, horribly, visibly, as he climaxed.

The next thing he knew, he was coming hopelessly into the hand pleasuring him, soaking it in the disgusting, white stuff that came from the pit of his arousal.

_Fuck..._

Exhausted, Adam lay still, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms tightly around Lawrence's trembling body, even though it put strain on his injured shoulder. He knew the older man must surely be regretting what he'd done, for giving into such insane impulses with someone he barely knew.

He didn't want him to be sad. Even if he did decide to leave and never come back... Well, Adam would be crushed if he did, but he'd feel even worse if his Lawrence was upset.

_His_ Lawrence?

God, he really was a girl sometimes. He actually _felt_ for the man. The man who was at this moment lying on top of him, his breathing rough and his arms hanging limp.

Fuck. He didn't just feel for him... He _loved_ him. He had to accept that, even though it brought back horrible memories. He had admitted to Lawrence that he loved him. Not directly, but he had. But he had forgotten to admit his feelings to himself, which was a great deal harder for someone like him.

"I love you, Larry," Adam muttered against Lawrence's shoulder, not really thinking about the words he said, but meaning them more than he'd ever meant anything in his life.

- - - - - - - - - -

Maybe the other man hadn't had good reason to be surprised. After all, _he'd_ started it, hadn't he? Well, he had been the one who had brought it out into the open, at least. But, admittedly, there is a huge difference between love and sexual desire. Adam had felt sexual desire for Lawrence, no question, but he'd also loved him, too. He'd loved him long before he'd thought about doing those kinds of things with him.

Lawrence feels for him, of course, but does he love him? Is Adam his "number one?" Or is it just... _desire_ that caused him to act out like that?

It's hard for Adam to believe otherwise now, because Lawrence had never answered him. He'd never said "I love you" back. Never. And Adam can't help thinking, that if he, who is hardly ever open about his feelings, can admit to loving Lawrence, and Lawrence, who is almost always open about how he feels, cannot admit the same thing to him... Well, maybe he doesn't feel the same way about him, after all. Adam is far too "un-open" and afraid to ask.

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Damn, I LOVE smut! LOVE it. Poor Adam. He's so lonely and horny. Well, maybe he's not horny yet, but he WILL be (as if that's a huge surprise). So, uh... Let me know what you think! I hope you like it, and again, sorry for the delay! Pirates of the Caribbean kicks ass, BTW.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey, everyone! It's been a while since I updated this fic, but I'm here now! XD Saw 3D... Biggest pile of non-canon, fan-pleasing BS ever, amirite? I mean, did the idiots who made it even _watch_ the first movie? Lawrence was nothing like he was in Saw I! Hell, I refuse to even acknowledge him as "Lawrence," because he wasn't. The real Lawrence was sweet and loving and caring, and never would've helped Jigsaw or not given a shit about helping Adam.

So, if you want to wash away that awful non-canon from your heads, you can read this! There's no smut in this chapter, I'm afraid, but there IS lots of angst! Adorable, adorable angst! This chapter is a flashback, though. Just saying that here because I don't really make that completely clear below. Anyway, enjoy!

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Adam lay huddled in the room that had become his prison, probably his tomb, and sobbed into his hands, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. He could barely feel his right arm anymore; the wound that he'd been given there seemed to have paralyzed the skin around it completely. His right ankle, which was bound by a rusty, metal chain, felt numb and sore.

And his chest... Oh, God, his chest hurt. It wasn't a physical pain. It was a burning, emotional sting that tore his very soul. In fact, if the young man had been melodramatic, he would have said that it was his _heart_ that ached, not his chest.

"Lawrence..."

Adam whispered the name for the umpteenth time, mumbling it into his hands even as he continued crying.

He'd always wondered what it was like to fall in love, what it was like to care about someone, more than he cared about himself. Now he did.

Lawrence... He loved him. He didn't know why he did, or when he'd started to develop these feelings - whether it had been when he'd been spying on the surgeon, taking pictures of his antics for a living, or when the two of them had wrapped their arms around one another briefly, their fear consuming them, just before Lawrence had left - he didn't know. He didn't care. All that he cared about was that Lawrence was gone, and he was all by himself, suffering in his affections.

He was scared, Adam didn't deny that. Hell, he was fucking _terrified_. The thought of dying here, alone, forgotten... It was enough to make him sob even harder than he already had been. But, amazingly, the freelance photographer actually cared more about Lawrence, and what was happening to him, than he did about himself. He wanted the older man to survive, to go back to his family and be happy, even if he himself couldn't live. The old Adam, the one that had never been in love, never cared about anyone but himself, would have scoffed at this. He would have insisted that if he had to die, then Lawrence should, too. God, how times had changed...

Perhaps it was this thought, the thought that he loved that doctor more than life itself, which he'd actually come to appreciate immensely in the last few hours, that made Adam pick up the mini-tape recorder that still sat beside him. He'd been aware of it since Jigsaw had slammed the door of the room, leaving him in the darkness to die, just as he'd been aware of the gun that sat beside him. If the worst came to the worst, he probably would use it. But not before he had made one last attempt to let Lawrence know of his feelings.

If the older man _did_ survive, which Adam, while he hoped beyond everything that he would, doubted, he knew he would try to send help back to him. But if he were to fail... Well, he'd feel guilty. Very guilty. Even though he barely knew him, Lawrence would feel bad. Because he was just so kind and caring...

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Adam pressed the record button on the tape. He'd been afraid that it wouldn't work; that Jigsaw would have stuck tape or something over the holes that allowed for the recording, but he obviously hadn't felt bothered with that. At least he had _some_ decency, then, although it was more likely that the thought simply hadn't crossed the sick bastard's mind.

"Lawrence..." Adam breathed into the speaker, forcing himself to take a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm himself. He _would_ do this. He wouldn't let his feelings die, even if he did. Lawrence would know how he felt, one way or another. "Hey, man..."

He chuckled softly against the tape recorder, feeling his heart melt as he imagined the older man someday listening to this message.

"I wanted to leave you a message. You know... Just in case you didn't manage to send help back."

Funny, he thought. The thought of Lawrence not saving him didn't make him despise the older man at all, even though it should have. He knew his friend would try his best to help him, and if he failed, it wouldn't be his fault. He wouldn't hate him for it.

"If you don't manage, Lawrence... I don't want you to feel guilty about it."

Of course, there was always the large possibility that Lawrence himself wouldn't make it out, that they'd both die here. But unlike Adam, Lawrence actually had people who cared about him, people who would try their best to find him, to save him. He sighed heavily, the tears rolling down his face refusing to stop or slow.

"I don't really have anyone who'll miss me. Not like you. If one of us has to die, it's better me than you, you know? Besides..."

Adam hesitated, a lump coming to his throat as he thought, then continued:

"You're so nice, Lawrence... You care about everyone. Hell, you knew me for barely eight hours and you still tried to help me. Even though I'd been spying on you, invading your privacy, judging you..."

Adam looked around at the pitch-black room, seeing barely anything as his eyes had failed to adjust enough to see much. The ticking of the clock sounded awfully loud, even over the pounding of the blood in the photographer's ears.

"God, I love you, Lawrence."

What a way to confess. Not like in those sappy, romantic movies, which his various girlfriends had dragged him to, where the characters spent at least half the movie trying to confess their undying love for one another. He laughed slightly, the pain in his chest lessoning slightly as he finally said what he'd been brewing over for the last... Well, however long he'd been in here.

"I love you, Lawrence."

His body began to shake uncontrollably as he sobbed, unable to do anything, to hold the man he so desperately wanted.

"More than anything, I love you."

How could love make you feel so... crappy? Being separated from him, from Lawrence, was practically tearing the younger man's insides apart with grief.

"I love you so fucking much."

Adam continued murmuring into the recorder, the same words over and over again. "I love you, Lawrence. More than anything, I love you." Even those stupid, romantic movies he'd been forced to sit through in an attempt to get laid hadn't been this... _pathetic_. He hadn't meant to make the message this long, but he couldn't help it. In some weird way, the message he was recording made the young prisoner feel a tiny bit better. If Lawrence survived...

_Please... Please, God... Let him survive._

...If Lawrence survived, he'd find this message eventually, and then he could stop feeling guilty. He could realize Adam's feelings and be at peace with the world.

"I love you... I love you... I love you..."

He didn't stop, even after the loud _clunk_ noise on the recorder informed him that the tape had run out, that whatever he said from here on out, Lawrence would never hear.

"Please, Lawrence... Live. Be happy. Do what I can't."

Finally, his energy completely gone, Adam allowed his head to slump forward, onto his chest, and the tape recorder to drop gently from his hands and land beside him once more. He did nothing to stop the heavy drooping of his eyelids, or the fogginess that was slowly but gradually beginning to fill his exhausted brain.

_So..._ Adam thought blearily as he slowly lost consciousness. _This is death... Not too bad._

His body went completely still, his breathing barely audible.

_Lawrence..._

"Adam! Adam!"

Strong, warm hands gripped the young photographer's freezing body, shaking him desperately in an attempt to wake him.

"Wake up!"

"Hmmm?" Adam mumbled sleepily, shifting slightly as he slowly came to.

"Oh, thank God!"

Adam grunted in annoyance at the loud voice, but the feeling of the speaker's warm hands against his body was very comforting.

"Hey, Anderson! He's awake!"

Blearily, Adam strained his eyes to see where he was, what was happening. He was lying against a wall, being held upright by a uniformed man, a cop, probably. Many other uniformed people were in the room, as well, searching it as though they were looking for someone else. The room itself was very grimy, almost like a prison cell. And there was blood everywhere, including on him.

"Where the fuck..." Adam muttered, his brain struggling to make sense of the situation.

Another uniformed man knelt down beside him, his face serious and grim.

"Adam?" he asked coldly, then continued on without waiting for an answer. "Where's Jigsaw?"

_Jigsaw..._

"Don't ask him that now, Anderson," the cop who was supporting Adam snapped angrily. "We need to get him out of here, to a hospital."

Adam's eyes widened and his breath left him as he gasped. Jigsaw. Yes, Jigsaw. The man who had locked him up here, left him to die. He began to struggle in the other man's grip, furiously, desperately, his fear making him completely irrational.

"Look what you did, Anderson!" the cop yelled, struggling to contain his burden. "You scared the shit out of him!"

Adam didn't care who these people were. For all he knew, they could work for Jigsaw. They could want nothing more than to keep him locked up in here, forever.

He was fighting like a madman, hitting, clawing, kicking, everything he could think of. If he could just break out of the other man's grip, maybe he could escape. And then he remembered the chain. Terrified, the freelance photographer looked down at his right ankle, expecting to find it still shackled. But it wasn't. Somehow, his bonds had been removed.

Adam stopped struggling, just as Anderson added his weight to the victim's body, trying to assist his coworker in restraining him. Breathing hard, scarcely able to believe what was happening, Adam lay back, looking at his companions with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Fuck, Adam..." the first cop said, letting go of the younger man and rubbing his bruised arms. "You can be really violent when you want to be, can't you?"

The other cop, Anderson, ignored his colleague and brought out a small bottle, seemingly filled with water, from his uniform. Wordlessly, he held it to Adam's lips, still supporting his body with his other hand.

"Drink," he ordered tonelessly, and Adam complied, drinking fervently from the bottle and quenching the horrible thirst that he hadn't even known he'd had.

In just a few seconds, he'd completely drained the bottle, and Anderson, satisfied, drew back, taking his hands from Adam as he did so. The wall supported him, so he didn't fall, but still the freelance photographer felt much colder without other warm hands on him. But the water he'd been given was also making his brain work faster. Slowly, he realized what was happening, who these people were.

"You're gonna help me?" Adam asked huskily, addressing both the men sitting in front of him. Anderson looked impatient. He got to his feet, waving dismissively at his coworker.

"Martin, you talk to him. I'm gonna check this place out a bit more. Maybe that fucker is still here."

Adam watched, dazed, as Anderson and about half a dozen other members of the force left the room, leaving only a few remaining.

The addressed cop, Martin, turned his attention back to Adam, his expression gentle and understanding.

"Hey, Adam," he said, moving his right hand out to grip the victim's shoulder. The younger man felt his body relax somewhat as, once again, it felt warm pressure against it. "My name's Jason Martin. I'm a member of the Rence Co. SWAT Team. We came here to rescue you. Well, and to look for Jigsaw, obviously. Lawrence told us-"

"Lawrence?" Adam interrupted sharply, feeling his heart-rate increase tenfold at the mention of his friend's name. "Lawrence sent you? Where is he? Did he make it out all right? Is he..."

The young man stopped, unable to finish the last question. In his mind was the thought of being rescued... The relief and gratitude he felt was overwhelming. But also in his mind, and this thought was much stronger than the other, was Lawrence... Lawrence, weak, bleeding, barely-alive, alone, dying...

"Lawrence is in the hospital, Adam," Jason said gently, his hand on the photographer's shoulder tightening a little. "He was stable. He kept repeating your name, though. He told us where to find you. He _begged_ us to..."

"Lawrence..." Adam breathed quietly, closing his eyes. He suddenly felt exhausted. Almost all of his energy, which had come rushing back to him in the adrenalin of all the panic and excitement, was gone. The warm feeling of Jason's hand on his numb shoulder was comforting, and the water he'd been given had nourished him. He was very tired.

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AW! Sorry Adam, but you shouldn't be so hot when you're scared and angsty! Adam seems like the sort of person who'd try to get a message to Lawrence in case he died, even though, contrary to what the stupid sequels would have you believe, he _does_ survive, just like Lawrence. :) In any case, I hope this update was up to standards, and that I'll be able to update a little faster from now on. Thanks for your support and patience!

And don't worry; there'll be more smut soon!


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